


Guilty Conscience

by clgfanfic



Category: Soldier of Fortune Inc.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene from the episode "Apres Vu."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guilty Conscience

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Ouch! #12 and later in Watch Your Six #4 with Mary Fallon Zane.

"Not to Disneyland," Benny Ray replied to Chance's question, shrugging into his jacket and heading for the stairs.  He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth, but it was too late to call them back and he honestly didn't know where he was going, and he didn't want to tell any of them why he was going.

          They were all on edge, worrying about Matt and wondering what they were going to do.  Equal measures of fear and frustration were responsible for the snappish words.  He'd make it a point to apologize to Chance later.  Chance would understand and appreciate the sniper's need to put some space between him and the situation so he could think.

          Outside, Benny Ray climbed onto his Big Dog, the engine quickly roaring to life.  He headed down the street, eventually maneuvering his way through morning traffic to enter the freeway.  But after driving for almost an hour, and not finding any place that called to him, he turned around and headed back to the Silver Star.  He might as well make his apologies and try a walk on the beach.

Rolling slowly to a stop at the light a block up the street from the old hotel, he glanced over at a slightly run down building sitting on the corner.  From the outside it looked a lot like the Silver Star – old, weathered, but with promise.  It was a church and youth center. He knew, having driven past it on numerous occasions.

The light changed, and without really thinking he pulled into the small parking lot and cut the engine.  He climbed off the Big Dog and walked to a door with a small sign on the wall that said "Chapel."  Reaching out, he checked the knob.  It was unlocked.

He pulled the door open and stepped inside.

A muffled silence greeted him.  The pews were all empty, only a few candles near the alter burning, a sign that someone had visited earlier.

Going further inside, he picked a pew at random and sat down, feeling more than a little out of place, but the chapel felt safe, and it was certainly quiet and private.  He leaned forward and tugged his pant leg down to make sure the ankle holster he wore was covered.  Then, resting his elbows on his knees, he bowed his head and silently prayed that Matt recovered from his injuries, and, just as importantly, that his spirit healed along with his body.

          After he made his appeal to God, Benny Ray settled back, going over the events, one by one, that had led up to Shepherd getting shot.  And again and again he came to the same damning conclusion: if he'd had the shot, Matt might not have taken the stupid, unnecessary risk he had; he might not have ended up getting his legs drilled full of holes.

The sniper shook his head and sighed softly.  He should have had a better position.  He should have stayed in the small guardhouse instead of moving over to join Shepherd behind the low hedge.  But he'd had no way of knowing that the woman they'd been sent to rescue would turn out to be a tango.

She'd lured them out of position, looking like a hostage, but planning her attack even as she crossed the grounds, surrounded by men who were her lackeys, not her captors.

If he'd stayed in the guardhouse, he could have backed Margo up when she'd tried to help free the bitch.  Such a simple thing: staying put.  But the plan was to enter the house, so he'd moved up to Matt's position so he could cover the major's six when they went in.

Seeing the woman out in the open changed everything.  But why hadn't Matt sent him after the woman?

How many times in the past had Matt left the dangerous stunts to him?  Plenty.  That's what the sniper was supposed to do: take the big risks; protect his team leader.  So why hadn't Matt sent him this time?  Why had the major vaulted over the damned hedge and charged the tangos?

It wasn't like Matt to act so recklessly.

But _was_ it reckless?  Had Margo been in danger?  Had Matt seen something that had tipped him off about the woman's real intentions?  Benny Ray wished he had the answers.

But when he got right down to it, the answers didn't matter.  He was supposed to watch Matt's six, and he'd failed.  No excuses.  End of discussion.

So why the hell was he mad at Shepherd?

 _Because he took a chance that should've been mine to take?_ he asked himself.  _Because, if I have my way, I'll die before I let Matt get himself killed_.

 _Because it was a stupid move when you get right down to it, and Matt Shepherd doesn't make stupid mistakes_.

So there had to be a reason for the man's actions.  What that might be, Benny Ray wasn't sure, but he'd keep at it until he figured it out.

However, that still didn't change the fact that he'd let the major down.  If he'd been in position, if he'd had a shot, Matt wouldn't have had to make a choice – a bad one, as it turned out.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Hours passed, the sniper lost in an endless stream of questions, supposition and self-recrimination.  Eventually he heard the sound of someone approaching, but he didn't bother looking up.  He recognized the man's footfall, having heard it a couple of times over the course of the morning.  It was the priest.

"It's getting late," the Father said.

Benny Ray glanced up, meeting the man's eyes.  The priest wasn't out-and-out asking him to leave, but that was the meaning behind his words.  He probably had someplace to be and needed to close up shop.

Standing a little stiffly, the sniper turned to go.

"Uh, excuse me."

He didn't want to talk, but Benny Ray couldn't help but stop and turn far enough to meet the man's eyes again.  Anything else would be disrespectful, and this was the man's church, after all.

The priest regarded him, a half-concerned, half-uncertain expression on his face.  After a brief pause he said, "You look like you need to talk."

"Thanks, but, uh, I'm not into that whole confessional sort of thing," Benny Ray replied, turning away again and starting for the door, adding over his shoulder, "My mama was Southern Baptist and my daddy was Methodist, so I'm afraid I don't know too much about y'all Catholics."

"Or, we could just talk," the priest offered, beginning to follow the sniper, then thinking better of it.

Benny Ray stopped and half-turned again so he could meet the man's questioning gaze.  "Just really lookin' for a nice, quiet place to sit and think is all," he said, his voice soft.  He appreciated the man's effort.  "But thanks."

The sniper turned and started out again, only to be stopped a second time when the priest asked him, "You been out of uniform long?"

Benny Ray stopped again and turned, a small grin chasing the serious expression off his face for a brief moment.  "Nice catch for a man of the cloth."

The priest looked relieved and returned the smile.  "Look, I don't mean to pry, but, uh. . ." he started, walking over to sit down on one of the pews.  "…powers of observation are kind of a prerequisite in my line of work."

Benny Ray knew he'd just been expertly hooked and was about to be reeled in like Sunday supper, but he felt comfortable with the man for some reason, and deep down inside there was a part of him that desperately wanted, no, needed, to talk to someone.

"What gave it away?" he asked.  "The white walls?"

"No, actually, your eyes," the priest said sincerely.  "You have the eyes of an operator."

That was unexpected, and Benny Ray was drawn closer to the man.  How had he read him so easily?  He leaned against the pew, but still didn't sit down.  "Now what would you know about operators, padre?"

"Oh, I had some time in BDUs and wet gear:  2nd, 75th."

"2nd, 75th Rangers?"

"Rangers lead the way," the priest replied automatically as he offered the sniper a half-shrug that was more just a tilt of his head.

Benny Ray smiled.  Maybe he'd been wrong.  Here was a man who could understand operators, and his situation.  He sat down, saying, "Well, hell, that's a righteous bunch of warriors there, padre.  Hot damn."  Then he realized where he was and blushed.  "Uh, no offense."

"No, no no," the priest said, blowing the comment off with a slight wave of his hand and a smile.  "I heard worse than that in Q school."

"Q course, too, huh?" Benny Ray asked.  The man was going out of his way to make sure the sniper knew he was safe to talk to.

"You can't tend to your flock if you can't keep up."

"I heard that," Benny Ray said, his expression turning serious again.   Well, here was what he'd wanted, someone to tell his story to.  Someone who could understand, and who wasn't so close to the situation that he couldn't be objective.

His head dipping slightly, his gaze dropping to the floor, Benny Ray added, "Well, I dropped the ball, padre… big time…  I, uh, let my buddy down; damn near got him killed."

The priest let the words sink in, then said, "Third commandment of the Ranger creed: never shall I fail a comrade."

"Yes, sir, that's it…" Benny Ray agreed, nodding slowly.  "There are no do-overs in my line of work… I can't take it back… and I don't know how to make it better."

There was another slight pause before the priest said, "You know, God doesn't give us any more of a load than we can carry…  If we could only learn to treat ourselves as well; stop punishing ourselves for mistakes we can't control.  Life would be a whole lot simpler."

"Yep," the sniper agreed, nodding once.  "Well, I'm all for simpler."

          "Would you like to tell me what happened?"

          Benny Ray met the man's eyes.  "Can't get into details."

          The priest nodded.  "I understand."

          "Looked like you were on the way out," Benny Ray said, giving the man an opportunity to get out of the discussion before it got started.  "I could come back 'nother time."

A shake of the head accompanied, "No need.  It's nothing that can't wait."  He proffered his hand.  "Robert Runiff, but most people call me Father Bob these days."

          Benny Ray shook the man's hand, saying, "Benny Ray Riddle."

          "You rather chat over a beer?" 

          The sniper's eyes rounded.

          Father Bob grinned.  "Come on," he said, standing.  He led Benny Ray through the chapel, an open gym, and finally to the back of the building.  They climbed a set of stairs to a second floor loft that had been converted into living quarters for the priest.

          Leaving Benny Ray waiting in the small living room, he headed to his refrigerator.  Pulling out two beers, he carried them back and handed one to Benny Ray, who had taken a seat on the sofa.  He sat down opposite the sniper in a well-worn but comfortable recliner.

          Both men opened their bottles and took a sip.

          Benny Ray looked up, a shy grin on his face.  "Hell, padre, didn't think you could enjoy yourself like this."

          "Within limits," Father Bob replied.  "So, tell me what's troubling you."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The sniper dipped his head again, his gaze locked on the patter in the carpet as he explained, "Supposed to pull a hostage out, but turns out the hostage was a tango.  Good friend of mine, leader of our unit, got himself shot up pretty bad."

          "And you're blaming yourself for this," the priest stated.

          "Yep," Benny Ray said, nodding, but he still didn't look up to meet the priest's gaze.  "My job to watch his six.  I didn't have the shot.  He had to act without proper cover… damn near died…"

          "How is he now?" Father Bob asked.

          "Pulled though, but it was touch and go… his body's healin' pretty good they tell me…"

          "And his mind?" the priest asked.

          Benny Ray shook his head as he sat back, finally meeting the man's gaze.  "Not sure, padre.  Still waitin' to see 'bout that."

          "What's really bothering you, Benny Ray?"

          The sniper allowed himself a small smile.  "That ain't enough?"

          Father Bob leaned forward, sitting his beer on a coaster already on the coffee table that separated them.  "Oh, that's enough, of course.  You're convinced that if you'd had the shot, your friend wouldn't have gotten shot and almost died."

          Benny Ray nodded.

          "But that's not why you spent the last six hours sitting in my church."

          The sniper took a long drink from his bottle, then sighed.  "He's been pushin' us all away," he said softly.  "Wants to call it quits."

          "And you don't want to."

          "Nope."  Benny Ray looked up meeting the man's eyes again.  "None of us do, but he's the man who calls the shots… the glue."

          "He might come around.  Maybe he just needs a little time to deal with his fears."

          "Fear?" the sniper asked, looking surprised, then snorted softly.  "Hard to put fear and Matt together."

          "Anyone who faces his own death faces fear, Mr. Riddle."

          "Benny Ray," he corrected.

          Father Bob nodded.  "Have you ever heard of the grieving process?"

          "Heard of it.  Been there myself the last few weeks."

          "We all pass though the same stages – some of us faster, some slower, some in slightly different ways.  But I promise you, a man gets himself shot up as badly as it sounds like this man was, and he going to have to stare his fears down before he's good to go again.  And that isn't always an easy thing to do."

          Benny Ray let the man's words sink in, then nodded.  "How can we help him?"

          The priest leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.  "Well, keep in mind that he might need some time, and some distance, before he clears his head and really starts to think about who he is, and what he's all about."

          "It's already been a while, padre.  He don't really talk to anyone … seems real quiet."

          "He hasn't run into the mad yet," Father Bob said knowingly.

          "Sounds like you've walked this trail before yourself, padre."

          "A time or two; the last time led me here, to the church," he acknowledged.  "First you just feel dead inside, numb.  Then you get pissed at everybody… and at yourself.  But, eventually, if you're lucky, you get past that and start thinking again, feeling again.  Then you can get focused."

          "Any way to speed this up?" Benny Ray asked.  "Don't know how long the team's gonna last."

          Father Bob leaned back.  "That's the real issue, isn't it?"

          The sniper grinned.  "Damn, padre, you readin' my mind here?"

          The priest chuckled softly.  "A useful trick they teach us at the seminary."

          Benny Ray nodded, saying, "They're like family… only family I've got right now."

          "And you don't want to lose them."

          Benny Ray looked down and shook his head.  "Nope.  But I'm goin' to before long."  He looked back up.  "See, we're gonna do something damned stupid, and then it'll all be over."

          "Revenge."

          The sniper nodded.

          "Would it help if I told you God prefers to take care of that himself?"

          "Nope.  This is somethin' we have to do – no choice."

          "And if Matt were with you?"

          "Well, padre, in that case it'd be an op, not freelance.  No harm, no foul."

          "So you need to get him back on board, and quickly."

"Yep."

          Father Bob thought a moment, then said, "Well, I don't have a sure-fire answer for you, but I'd say the key would be finding whatever it is that makes this man tick – what creed does he live by?  What really defines him?"

          "Everybody comes home," Benny Ray immediately replied, but it was just a whisper.

          "Excuse me?"

          "The creed he lives by: everybody comes home."

          "Then that's your key.  You find a way to tap into that, and if he's going to make it back, he will."

          "Easier said than done, padre."

          The priest smiled.  "Maybe so, but you seem to know this man pretty well.  I'm sure you'll think of something.  You're obviously highly motivated.  And the other members of your team might have some suggestions as well – if you feel comfortable talking to them about it."

          "Some," Benny Ray acknowledged.  "Just haven't been up to it."

          Father Bob leaned forward again.  "I don't feel like I'm helping you."

          Benny Ray smiled.  "More than you know, padre.  Just bendin' your ear has been a big help."

          "Well, you know where I am, if you need to bend it again."

          "Appreciate that, I truly do."

          "I'd be happy to talk to your friend, if you think it might help."

          After a short pause, the sniper shook his head.  "Don't think he's a real churchgoer."

          "Well, I don't have to wear this collar 24/7."

          That prompted another smile from the sniper.  "I'll let you know.  Might do 'im some good, just don’t know."

          The priest shrugged.  "Consider it an open offer.  You certainly don't have to take me up on it.  Just do me one favor?"

          "If I can, padre," Benny Ray replied.

          "Cut yourself some slack.  We're all human, Benny Ray.  We make mistakes – you, your friend, me, all of us."

          Benny Ray nodded.  "I'll try an' keep that in mind."

          "You do that."

          Father Bob waited as Benny Ray finished off his beer, then set the empty bottle down on another coaster.  They stood together and the priest led the man back downstairs and into the chapel.

          The sniper paused at the door.  "You believe everything happens for a reason, padre?"

          Father Bob nodded.  "Yes, I do.  But I also believe that God lets us make our own choices – good and bad.  But he's always there, when we want to set things right with him."

          Benny Ray nodded.  "Think He'll listen to an ol' sinner like me?"

          The priest smiled kindly.  "Yes, He listens to all of us.  Just remember, it might take a little time to get what you want.  Give your friend the time he needs to work through this; make sure the rest of your team holds it together until then."

          "I'll do my best."

          "And remember what I said.  You find a way to push the button that makes him tick and you'll get what you want: your team leader back."

          "I'll talk to the others, see what we can come up with."  He extended his hand and Father Bob shook it.  "Thank you."

          "You're welcome.  And, please, keep me informed, okay?"

          "I'll do that, padre.  I'll do that."

          Father Bob watched Benny Ray leave, climb onto his motorcycle, and roar out of the parking lot.  Silently he asked, _Lord, please watch over him and his friends.  See to it they're all good to go when the time comes_.

 


End file.
